I arrive at work the next day, late as usual, but it is what it is. Rushing once again to my office, I find a beautifully wrapped box on my desk. I set my things down and go to the present. The paper is a gorgeous shade of green - deep emerald - with silver swirls all over it. The package is tied with silver and black ribbon. It looks almost too pretty to open, and I'm excited to find out who sent it. I look for a card, but there isn't one on the present. I check around and under the desk, the floor of my office and my keyboard tray, but there's no card or note. "That's strange," I think. Maybe the card's inside.
I gingerly untie the bow and slip my finger under the tape. I'm trying carefully not to rip the paper; it's just so beautiful. Normally, I dive into presents with gusto, ripping off the paper like it's a spectator sport, but this is just so exquisite; I don't want to ruin it. The paper is thick, glossy and very smooth. Once the paper is removed, I take the lid off the black box, move the tissue paper aside, and my eyes observe a glorious masquerade mask. It's almost identical to the one on the invitation I received yesterday - emerald green and black with swirls of ribbon cascading from each side, jewels and glitter on the face and a few green and black feathers on the top. It's unbelievably beautiful, and I've never seen anything quite like it.
I pick it up, and the back is lush velvet, so soft. It has a nice weight to it but not too heavy to be worn. It looks and feels expensive, and I wonder who would have sent such an extravagant gift. Again, I look for a card and see a sliver of white peeking out under the tissue paper. It's a small card, like the ones florists use, and has two words in an ornate black script: Wear This. Feeling a bit like Alice who's fallen down the rabbit hole and is being asked to eat this or drink this, I turn the card over looking for a signature or any indication of who sent it. There's nothing. "Curiouser and curiouser," I think. I pack up the mask, set the box aside and go about the rest of my busy day, only glancing occasionally at it out of the corner of my eye.
Wednesday morning I'm actually almost on time. I left the box with the mask in my office and have been worried about it since I got home last night. Fortunately, it's still sitting where I left it, but a ribbon has been tied around it, sealing the box. Hmmm...I wonder once again. I undo the belt on my coat, slip it off my shoulders and start to close my door to hang it on the back. There's garment bag hanging from the hook. "OK," I think. "This is getting ridiculous. What on Earth?" I take the bag down, lay it on my desk and unzip it. Not surprisingly, it's another gift, although this time, it's a beautiful ball gown, emerald green satin with a long slit up the right side, lined in black satin with black, jeweled accents on the waist. The bodice is ruched with sweetheart cups that will hug my breasts like they were custom made for them. The gown is incredibly beautiful, and I run my fingers over it. Also in the bag is a set of long, black opera gloves and another mysterious card stating Wear These. I want to try them on, but the outfit is not exactly work appropriate, so I wait until the end of the day and take the garment bag and the box with the mask home.
Thursday's gift is a black box, once again on my desk. I'm giddy with excitement as I enter my office and see it. I'd tried the dress on last night, and it fits perfectly, hugs my curves but is elegant and beautiful. I felt like a princess wearing it. My girlfriend, Tracy, stopped by as I was trying to zip up the back. I told her the story, and she was just as bewildered and incredulous as I am. She helped me into the dress and praised it with me. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I have no idea. I don't know who's sending me these gifts, but they obviously want me to attend this event Saturday night. I'm a little scared but flattered and definitely curious at the same time," I reply.
Ever the loyal friend, Tracy says, "Well, take your phone, and if it looks shady, text me. I'll come get you."
"Am I really going to do this?" I think. Then I look in the mirror, and I am in awe of the beauty of the gown and the elegance of the mask. I've always wanted to go to a masquerade ball, so how can I turn down this opportunity? Plus, I'm dying to know who my secret admirer is.
